


Dance Moves.

by BarPurple



Series: Mollcroft for the win [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Sherlock Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is only one lady that he wants to dance with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Moves.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'nine ladies dancing'

Mycroft surveyed the battleground through politely gritted teeth. It wasn’t the first time he had considered a formal ball as a battlefield, the sheer amount of political wrangling that could occur with a champagne glass in one hand and a fake smile in place was simply amazing and would possible unnerve the electorate at large. He smoothly sidestepped his counter-part from the German government and set his mind to the problem in hand.

The party was a gathering of the great and good, or at least the powerful and popular. To make matters worse the press had fully access, Mycroft had already endured a tedious conversation with a tipsy economics professor simply to avoid Kitty Riley. 

His love of dancing had somehow become public knowledge and this was the first time he’d been free of a partner all evening. He’d never been so in demand at a function like this. He was beginning to wonder if there was some chemical change in him that notified women he was taken and triggered their urge to test, tempt or otherwise lure him away from the woman he would freely admit was the love of his life. Under any other circumstances he would have rebuffed every request with varying degrees of cool aloofness, but here tonight a suggested slight could cause an international incident, or an annoying blurb in tomorrow’s papers. Either discomforts to be avoided at all costs.

So having to be suitably filled with seasonal cheer and politically polite were the twin roots of Mycroft’s problem. There was only one woman he wanted to dance with tonight, but every time he had even come close to her he had been intercepted by someone he ‘simply had to treat too the next dance’.

Time was ticking on. Drastic action was called for; he was going to have to ask Sherlock for help. Mycroft sighed to himself, needs must when the devil drives and at this moment his personal devil was driving him to hold Molly Hooper close in a slow waltz.

He found Sherlock lounging against the balcony railing smoking a cigarette. Mycroft quickly outlined his dilemma and waited for his brother’s expected snide response. Sherlock ground out the stub of his illicit smoke and straighten his bow tie.

“Not a problem, Mycroft. Lurk back here for say seven minutes and then make a beeline for Molly. Your path will be clear.”

“I’m grateful brother mine, but suspicious at the lack of teasing.”

Sherlock paused at the door.

“Perhaps I’ve been visited by the spirit of the season.”

With that Sherlock disappeared into the party to put whatever scheme he had into motion.

Mycroft re-entered the party exactly seven minutes later. From his vantage point on the mezzanine level above the dance floor he instantly spotted Molly Hooper on the far side of the room. He also observed eight women who had requested the pleasure of his company for a turn around the floor. Subtly crossing his fingers in his waistcoat pocket, Mycroft stepped once more unto the breach.

In an unnamed and hitherto unseen manoeuvre Sherlock’s hastily gathered troops swooped into action. Mycroft watched as John Watson intercepted Captain Brenda Merrow with a polite bow and a joke on his lips. Within seconds John was putting the dance lessons Sherlock had given him for his wedding into full use as he waltzed, admittedly a little stiffly, with the taller Captain Merrow.

The Amore twins, Flora and Fauna quickly fell to the distractions offered by the air of mystery surrounding of Vincent and Marcus, Mycroft’s driver and body guard respectively. The British Government breathed a small sigh of relief that Sherlock had enlisted such trustworthy help and continued edging his way towards his goal.

Speaking of mysterious charms, Phillip Anderson has worked his magic and captivated Kitty Riley. Whatever the two were discussing as they danced the reporter was hanging on Anderson’s every word. Mycroft hurried on by, not wanting to overhear anything that might cause him to want to start a war with the Fourth Estate. 

Mycroft was momentarily stopped in his tracks as he watched a certain silver haired Detective Inspector acquire his target by simple grasping the lady’s hand and twirling her on to the dance floor. The bold action was rewarded with a deep blush from the minor Royal, who then let her hands settle rather intimately around the neck of her dance partner. Greg Lestrade gave Mycroft a wink before the crowd of couples swallowed them.

Scarcely recovered from witnessing of Lestrade’s slick moves Mycroft’s brain almost went off line when he spotted a Conservative Dame accept the arm of Sherlock’s protégée. The how and why of Billy Wiggins’ presence at tonight’s gathering was lost in the sheer disbelief of watching the normally stone face lady wreathed in smiles as Wiggins led her in a sedate waltz. Until someone fell suspiciously unconscious or worse Mycroft slammed any speculation about that particular pairing into a mental drawer and moved swiftly on.

Mycroft almost stumbled into the MEP who smiled shyly and as she pulled Anthea in her wake onto the dance floor. His PA gave him a bright smile and then totally ignored him as she began to dance with the young woman.

Molly was merely ten feet away. He was so close to finally taking Molly in his arms when he spotted Mummy advancing towards him from his left. Could he make it to Molly before being snagged for a maternal dance? He didn’t think so. Damn. A flash of black and mad curls rushed passed him and he just heard Sherlock say,

“My dance, Mummy.”

Sherlock swept Mummy away to the far side of the room as quickly as the beat would allow. Mycroft gratefully covered the last few feet that finally brought him to his beloved Molly. She smiled up at him and the rest of the party dimmed in comparison to the beauty before him. He made a small bow as he took her hand.

“May I have this dance, Doctor Hooper?”

“Certainly, Mr Holmes.”

 

There were currently nine ladies dancing who were unaware that their apparently chance partners were in fact part of a co-ordinated strike team. Well, possibly Mummy had an inkling, but she knew her boys too well to be fooled by much for very long. Mycroft’s mind was only consumed by thoughts of lady in his arms. As Molly rested her head against his chest Mycroft knew he was the luckiest man in the room. He had everything he could ever want for Christmas right here.


End file.
